Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 472: Bite the Hand II

Chapter 472: Bite the Hand II

King Cyrus was a loving father. But do not be mistaken, he was only a good father with two of his children, not all of them― Alistair and Drusilla. Drusilla was born from his lover, a woman King Cyrus held dear to his heart before she descended into madness. Alistair, on the other hand, had always been a prodigy.

What’s not to love about Alistair?

Since young, he had displayed a high aptitude for fire control. He learned quickly when it came to the standard school curriculum and had even displayed a fair talent for martial arts. Of course, since his pyrokinesis took off with such a flair, most of his youth was dedicated to mastering the art of fire, not everything else.

It worked wonderfully on him and he turned out every bit the magical genius King Cyrus had hoped for. Especially since Daphne, the second child, was born, Alistair seemed even more extraordinary.

Unfortunately, out of King Cyrus’s favorite children, one had died and the other was decapitated and his undead body was sent to prison. That wouldn’t do.

King Cyrus gripped the serum tightly in his hands as he hurried down the long flight of stairs. He made sure to bring ten of his best men with him. Even though this was his favorite son, he had seen firsthand the cruelty Alistair could bring to this world. He would be a fool to take any chances with his safety.

Swiftly, he found the prison cell where Alistair’s body was locked. Without his head, this was nothing but a shell, a soulless corpse which could not move on its own. That was easy enough. The knights heaved that over their shoulders and they were then off to the main attraction― Alistair’s head.

On the contrary, Alistair’s head might be kept in the dungeons but it was also placed quite literally on a pedestal. There was nothing an armless, legless head could do, thus, there were no other security measures other than a couple of guards standing watch behind a locked gate.

King Cyrus passed through that like a breeze.

"Hello, Father," Alistair instantly greeted once King Cyrus appeared in his field of vision.

He was strangely calm, akin to the version of Alistair before his mind was corrupted by the odd serums and potions Jean Nott fed him. For a second, King Cyrus wondered if his son had truly returned.

Then, that illusion broke when Alistair spoke again.

"How is it that Daphne is still alive?" he said with a sneer.

King Cyrus could only sigh. Alistair had never liked Daphne. Initially, King Cyrus had always thought that Alistair was jealous― every child would be, to some extent, when their parents’ attention was taken away and given to a newborn sibling they never asked for. However, it soon became a sense of superiority when Daphne showed little to no signs of magic. At least back then, Alistair made sure to still remain cordial when speaking in front of their parents.

Now, not so much.

"You would be wise to keep that mouth shut," King Cyrus warned. "If King Atticus heard you, he―"

"King Atticus. It’s always about King Atticus, is it not?" Alistair rudely cut in. "When will you old sods open your eyes and properly look! He is just using Daphne to get what he wants― Reaweth! And you are all handing it to him on a silver platter!"

With his fists clenched at his sides, King Cyrus had half a mind to send his son’s head flying to the ground. He had to remind himself that this wasn’t his son speaking but the poison that was controlling his mind. Alistair was a proper king― he would be a proper king.

That was why he needed Alistair alive as well.

"He has plans to kill you," King Cyrus slowly said. He watched as Alistair’s expression darkened.

"And do you plan to help him, Father?" Alistair asked. "Kill your own flesh and blood?"

"No, of course not," King Cyrus replied. He waved a hand and beckoned the knights to come closer.

Alistair’s eyes brightened when he noticed what it was the knights carried with them.

His body.

He just needed to be connected with his body and he would be unstoppable. Just the thought of it had Alistair nearly salivating.

"I can make you whole again, my son," King Cyrus said. "The throne to Reaweth will be yours in the future if you can do one thing."

"Oh, name it, Father," Alistair immediately said, a cunning grin on his lips. "I knew you hadn’t given up on me."

"Kill King Atticus," King Cyrus said, "and the throne to Reaweth will be yours once I die."

"Consider it done," Alistair breezily agreed.

Satisfied with his answer, King Cyrus snapped his fingers, bringing forth Alistair’s body. A knight lifted Alistair’s head from the pedestal, aligning it with the neck where it was severed before joining it.

King Cyrus readied the serum he had prepared, lining it right at Alistair’s arm. He watched in fascination as blood formed arcs in midair, joining the head to its neck, while flesh seemed to reach out and entwine between two ends. It was like watching a bridge being built in record time, and once it was done, King Cyrus quickly jabbed the needle into Alistair’s arm, pumping the antidote in.

Alistair hissed out on instinct, flexing his newly attached arm before wildly swinging it. His abnormal strength sent King Cyrus flying into the wall, crashing past several guards as they all collapsed in a heap.

Seeing the king injured, the knights rushed to his aid, but Alistair was not done. His ruby-red eyes swept across the crowd before he slashed his claws, splitting open the chests of five knights successively. They were nothing but dead bodies on the cold stone floor in a matter of seconds.

"Alistair!" King Cyrus heaved from where he was, struggling to sit up. He had knocked against the hard floors and his tailbone was bruised badly. He could barely even move an arm like this, but it was enough for him to point a finger at his son. "What is the meaning of this?!"

"It was a tempting offer, Father," Alistair said. "I would’ve gone after King Atticus either way, orders or not, since I have a score to settle with him and his lovely wife. However..."

His clawed nails dug into King Cyrus’s neck, effortlessly lifting the old man from the ground as he gurgled and kicked. However, his strength was no match for Alistair, who was younger, fitter, stronger, and fueled by his vampiric instincts. King Cyrus’s eyes gazed into the crimson irises of his son’s and his blood instantly chilled.

The antidote did not work.

Alistair smiled when he noticed the flash of fear in his father’s face.

"You see, Father," he said, licking his fangs, "I will be king after you die. Thus, why should I wait when I can be king now?"

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.